


Dean, what is this?

by Mnemophobia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Awkward Castiel, Awkward First Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, Destiel - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Sexual Humor, Sexual Inexperience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnemophobia/pseuds/Mnemophobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel goes snooping through Dean's duffel bag and Dean doesn't know how to explain what he finds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean, what is this?

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one isn't particularly explicit. I've tagged the fic with everything that I intend to include, but most of those tags won't become relevant until chapter two.

“Dean, what is this?” Castiel asked. 

Dean was still in the bathroom, scraping at a patch of stubborn stubble in that infuriating spot just above his jaw. 

“I don’t know, Cas. I’m kind of busy at the moment and I can’t see through doors,” Dean snapped back irritably as he wiped off his face and discovered that the patch of stubble had escaped his blade again. He took the razor to his jaw again and held his breath as it slide across his skin. A strange buzzing came from just outside the bathroom door and Dean watched the color drain from his face in the mirror. A second later a trickle of blood ran down his cheek. His hand had slipped. 

Dean dropped the blade and reached for the door. His hand hovered over the knob indecisively as he listened to the familiar thrum coming from just outside. He opened the door slowly, jaw clenched tight. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t know how to shut it off. What is it for?” Castiel asked. The angel stood at the end of the motel bed, Dean’s duffle bag in one hand and the source of Dean’s panic in the other. 

“It’s... uh... It’s a back massager. For when my back gets sore,” Dean lied. 

The vibrator was bright purple, 8 inches long, and at least twice as thick as the first one Dean had stolen from a novelty store when he was 14. That one had been made of cheap plastic and the motor in it had given up a long time ago. It’s replacement, the one currently in Castiel’s hand, had set Dean back about $120 bucks. But with it’s high-powered motor, 6 speed settings and firm gel covering, it had been well worth the money. 

“Why is your face bleeding?” Castiel asked.

“I cut myself shaving,” Dean answered. He swiped his thumb across the blood and stepped towards Castiel, carefully taking the phallic object away and shutting it off. He tossed it back into the duffel bag and headed back into the bathroom as calmly as he could manage. 

“Is your back injured?” Castiel asked, following Dean right into the bathroom. 

Dean swore under his breath. Castiel hadn’t dropped the subject after all. 

“It’s not injured. It just gets sore sometimes,” Dean huffed as he stuck a bit of toilet paper on the cut. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Castiel’s hand coming towards him and before he could react he felt the pulse of Castiel’s healing. 

“Damn it, Cas!” Dean snapped. 

“I can help you with that too, Dean. There’s no need for you to be in pain,” Castiel said, picking the bit of toilet paper off of Dean’s jaw. 

“I’m not in any pain. There’s nothing wrong with my back,” Dean insisted. He brushed Castiel’s hand away and turned his back to the angel. 

“There’s something you aren’t telling me,” Castiel accused. “Your skin flushed when you saw me holding your back massager. Are you ashamed of your back problem, Dean?”

“I don’t have a back problem. I have an angel problem,” Dean snapped as he turned around and pushed his way past Castiel, ignoring the crestfallen look on Castiel’s face. 

Castiel followed, hovering just behind Dean’s shoulders. The angel’s hands brushed Dean’s shoulders and he shivered. 

“I understand, Dean. The massager is a substitute for human contact and soothing,” Castiel said as he attempted to give Dean the contact he needed. 

A chuckle erupted from Dean’s mouth as he pulled away again. “Yeah, something like that,” he said bitterly. 

“Then let me help you,” Castiel insisted, following Dean around the small motel room persistently. 

“Look, Cas. It’s not that kind of problem and it’s not that kind of massager. So just drop it,” Dean said as he kicked his duffel bag under the bed and sat down. 

Castiel stood there staring. His gaze was inescapable. 

Castiel sat down beside Dean and let a hand rest against his thigh. “Dean, please tell me why this is causing you so much distress. I need to understand,” Castiel practically pleaded. 

Dean leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees and face pressed into his palms. He groaned with frustration. Castiel wasn’t going to let this go. “It’s a sex toy,” Dean whispered into his palms. 

“Dean, you’re too old for toys,” Castiel said disapprovingly. 

“It’s not a kid’s toy. It’s a sex toy!” Dean said louder, too frustration outweighing humiliation for a moment. 

“Then I was right,” Castiel said. “You use it in place of human contact, correct?” 

“I am not having this conversation with you,” Dean said firmly. 

“Does it meet your needs, Dean?” Castiel asked. 

“Yes, it works fine. Now please stop asking me about it,” Dean begged.


End file.
